


Always

by SilverStrings



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Country!Reader, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverStrings/pseuds/SilverStrings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A promise is a promise. He swore that he would always be there for you, but forever is a long time for a near-immortal nation. In the ever-changing political sea that is Europe, a promise between nations is almost impossible to keep. </p><p>This is the tale of an old friendship with something more lingering, and the tale of new romance between old rivals. This is your story as the proud, yet tiny nation of Arcadia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Team

**Author's Note:**

> The reader is a fictional country in Europe bordering modern-day France, Switzerland, and Germany. Your country name will be Arcadia and your human name will be your choice. Your appearance is your choice so long as you stick to the age and rough heights I describe, particularly because height matches to nation size and international power. I hope that you enjoy the story!

**[mid-1400s]**

Somewhere in Europe, far from the sea, what appeared to be a young boy of twelve years was carrying another boy of the same age on his back. The blond doing all the work was covered in bumps and bruises, a scowl engulfing his features as he trudged along. The brunet on his back was in far worse condition—torn jacket, bloodied boots, bruises across all visible skin, and scratched glasses. A dazed smile graced his lips in a stark contrast from the pain he was in.

When the sounds of war became a distant call, the blond growled, "Austria, you were beaten up again! How many times have I brought you home from a battle like this?"

"Again with this, Switzerland?" A light laugh escaped the brunet's lips. "Seventy-two."

"Seventy-eight times!" the Swiss nation corrected. "You need to train your troops better—you get beat up every time you fight!"

Austria smiled and laughed again. "I still have you and Arcadia looking after me, though. The three of us make a good team."

Switzerland scoffed. "If we're a team, then you don't contribute to the team effort at all. It's always me and Arcadia who have to clean up your mess! You need to actually train, because we won't keep saving you every time you get your butt kicked."

Austria laughed again, irritating his friend even further—though, this didn't stop the blond from carrying him all the way home. He remained silent as his thoughts strayed to you, hoping that you weren't doing anything rash back on the battlefield.

 

Miles away, you were at the center of the chaos as you fought with another child-sized nation. Your sword clashed with that of your Prussian opponent, yet you had a Cheshire-like grin as you looked up at the nation in front of you.

"Is that all you've got, blondie?" you hollered as the two of you broke apart and squared off again.

He laughed and narrowed his eyes at you. "Not even close, brat!"

Prussia lunged at you, aiming his blade at your neck. You smirked as you parried and began to attack again.


	2. Stubborn

You sat on a tree stump, covered in cuts and bruises. A confident smirk was plastered on your face despite the discomfort that your black eye was causing. You winced as Switzerland roughly grabbed your arm and began bandaging it.

A light blush settled on his face as he berated you. "What is wrong with you? You were supposed to hold the front until I came back, not go off and attack!"

You blushed lightly and rolled your eyes before retorting, "Well, you were taking too long. Besides, I had him on the ropes. I even gained some territory out of it."

He narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't matter that you pushed him back! Look at yourself, Arcadia, you were really hurt in the war. This happens every time you fight Prussia!"

You pouted and looked away as you grumbled, "Yeah? Well, it's not like that matters anyway. I still beat him."

"Not without a cost!" He scolded as he let go of your arm. "You're too reckless. If you keep this up you'll die one day!"

You crossed your arms and scoffed at his suggestion. "Oh, _please._ We're countries, Switzy—we can't just die like humans do."

"Oh, we can't, can we?" Anger and sarcasm laced his voice. "So, Rome never existed, then, and neither did any of Prussia's brothers, or Germania, or the Byzantine Empire. The list goes on and on, Arcadia! You have to be more careful."

He had a point, but you just looked down at your feet in a huff, unwilling to admit it as you grumbled, "Whatever. I'm not them."

You heard Switzerland snort in frustration. After a few moments of silence, you heard his footsteps as he walked away, towards the nearest Swiss Army camp.

"I'm not Rome," you mumbled. "I'll be even better than him. I'll show him. I'll show everyone just how strong I am."

After several minutes, you heard footsteps approaching. When they stopped, you looked up to see Switzerland standing in front of you. He was looking to the side, his cheeks a rosy red as he outstretched his arm, package in hand.

"Here."

You looked at him with a befuddled look on your face as you grabbed the package. You opened it to find a small portrait painted by your favorite artist. Your eyes widened as you gawked at the piece.

"Happy birthday." His voice turned to a mumble as he added your human name.


	3. Promise

**[late-1400s]**

You had your hands stuffed in your coat pockets as you stood in silence next to Switzerland at the top of one of his Alps. The bitter wind combed its way through your hair as you both stared to the northeast with mixed emotions.

You huffed before darkly musing, "It looks like our trio's down to two."

Switzerland's expression remained stoic as he muttered, "Yeah."

"Vash," you began, catching the nation's eye at the sound of his human name. "I promise you that I will never let my boss tell you what to do like his did. I'll stick with you, no matter what."

Switzerland nodded, acknowledging your attempt to console him over Austria's betrayal. The corners of your lips tugged into a slight frown at his silence before looking back to the northeast.

"Tomorrow, we'll strike," you began with a vengeful tone. "When this is all over, we'll finally be free from the Holy Roman Empire."

Switzerland still didn't respond as he stood there brooding. Unsatisfied by his lack of response, you turned to travel down the mountain to your waiting armies. After only a few steps, you heard Switzerland call out to you.

You stopped in your tracks and turned your head toward your friend.

He stood with his back to you and his head slightly turned to your direction as he told you, "Even if we're not official allies, I'll always be there for you too."

You blushed at his statement and smiled as you laughed. "Yeah, but we'll always be allies, Switzy—that's what best friends are for—so, you won't have to worry about that."

Finished with your comment, you smiled as you excitedly made your way back down the mountain to your troops to prepare for tomorrow. Switzerland stayed behind for another few minutes before deciding to return as well. When he turned and saw you so far away, nearly skipping for joy as you climbed down the mountain, he frowned.

"You're so naïve sometimes..."


	4. Advice

**[1499]**

"Are you kidding me?!" You slammed your hands on the General's desk.

He calmly answered, "I wouldn't joke about such a thing, Arcadia. The war is over."

"That's not fair!" You threw your arms in the air. "We can't just let them off the hook after how they treated us. They took some of my territory, and we have to get it back. We can't do that with a _peace treaty!"_

The General let out an irritated sigh as he rubbed his temples. "I understand where you are coming from, Arcadia, but the treaty has already been signed. We got what we went to war for: we're independent from the Holy Roman Empire. It's time for our soldiers to go home—King's orders."

You narrowed your eyes and clenched your fists before whipping around in a huff and marching out of the tent. Outside, you saw the soldiers rejoicing at the news of the treaty. They were singing and dancing around the fire, some excitedly packing for the return home, and others drinking a toast to their fallen comrades.

An empty pain in your stomach brought your attention back to yourself. You ignored it, just like you had gotten used to doing, and sulked to your tent. After quickly packing the few things that you had brought to battle, you began to saddle up your horse. 

As you attached your bags to the saddle, you grumbled to no one in particular, "How am I supposed to get bigger without a war?"

Your stomach growled again as the pain got worse, prompting you to wince and clutch your side.

"Arcadia."

You turned your head to see Switzerland standing behind you as he continued, "I think that you should focus on finding new ways to feed yourself now that you lost your main supply. Gaining more territory can wait."

He was right again, just like he always seemed to be, but you let your pride get the better of you and didn't respond to his statement. You looked back to your horse for a moment before turning to your friend and changing the subject.

"So, are you and your troops going to head home now too?"

Switzerland waited for a few moments before saying, "We're going to start heading back in the morning. They deserve some rest after what they've been through."

"Oh." Disappointment was clear in your voice. "Well, I'm leaving tonight. I'll see you around, I guess."

With that said, you turned and mounted your horse. When you looked back down at Switzerland, he was frowning. 

You smiled at him. "Don't worry, Switzy, I'll make sure to write. Maybe I'll come visit when I'm bored too. Remember our promise?"

Something lit up in his eyes as his frown became a subtle smile.

He blushed and looked away as he grumbled, "Of course I do."

You let out a hearty laugh, ignoring your own warm cheeks. "I'll always be your friend, Vash! Well, I'm going to head out now. Goodbye!"

As your horse began to tread forward, Switzerland called out, "Be careful on your way back!"

You smirked and assured him, "I'll be fine!"

After passing through the rest of the camp, your stomach growled loudly at you. You winced at the ever-increasing pain, but you did your best to ignore it again.


	5. Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As all languages have different names for different nations, this will be reflected in this series.

**[1508]**

A smile settled on your face as you admired the newly finished sword. After wiping the sweat from your brow, you put out the forge's fire and removed your protective clothing. You attached your personal dagger to your belt before stepping out of the workshop and locking the large doors behind you.

As you returned the ring of keys to your belt, you heard quiet footsteps as they approached. You froze and cautiously listened to the sound until a hand touched your shoulder. Your eyes widened and you whipped around, grabbing the assailant before slamming him against the wall next to you and pressing your dagger to his neck.

The man threw his arms into the air and smiled awkwardly as he commented, "You have become just as paranoid as Switzerland."

You narrowed your eyes at the stranger before taking in his appearance. He was a head taller than you, still only the height of a younger human. Despite how old he should have been, he was completely calm with your blade against his throat. When you scanned his face for details, you saw that he had shoulder-length blond hair and cool blue eyes. After a moment, an inkling of recognition whispered a name into your ear.

"France?"

He smiled at you. "It has been a long time, _Arcadie."_

Your tension faded, but a frown remained on your face. You released your grip and returned your dagger to its sheath before backing away. France brushed the wrinkles out of his uniform before looking back up at you and fully taking in your appearance. 

He frowned as he noted, "You look thin."

You ignored his comment as easily as you did the pain in your gut and snapped, "What do you want?"

His lips curled upward into a wry smile. "I just thought that a beautiful woman like you could use my company." He winked.

"After last time? No thanks," you scoffed.

"Oh, come now, Arcadia," he cooed. "That war ended long ago. We have different Kings now, and I can promise you that mine has no intention of invading."

You folded your arms over your chest as you raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"I have a proposition for you."

Your posture relaxed. "I'm listening."

"Everyone knows that you make the best weapons around here. I have been having some problems with other nations attacking my borders," he began. "In exchange for your blades and armor, I propose to send food for you and your people. What do you say, Arcadia?" He held out a hand.

You put a finger to your chin as you thought for a moment. Food had been scarce ever since the Holy Roman Empire claimed your main supply. At this point, you were almost ready to take that agreement from anyone, even England. Similar to France's claim that you were the best bladesmith in Europe, you knew that you would find nothing better than French food.

You smiled and roughly grasped his hand. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably guessed, France likes to call you by your French name, Arcadie.


	6. Separate Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, guys, I'm trying to stay as historically accurate as I can with this story. Mind you, some things will be changed since you represent a fictional country, but I don't want to change too much.

**[1515]**

You grinned excitedly and clutched your horse's reins as it galloped toward your border with Switzerland. When you read his letter that morning, you were so excited that you left without reading your other mail. The contents of the letter were brief, but he finally agreed to see you at the base of the mountain.

Thunder rumbled in the distance when you finally caught a glimpse of Switzerland standing at the border. His arms were crossed as he frowned and tapped his foot impatiently. Your smile grew wider and you hurried your horse to your waiting friend. You stopped several yards away and tied your reins to a tree before dismounting. 

Switzerland reached for his belt as you took a few jovial steps toward him. You had only closed half of the gap between the two of you when he whipped his hand around, throwing a dagger into the ground at your feet.

You froze.

Your smile was immediately replaced by a frown. Wind howled above your heads as the storm approached. Your eyes were wide as you carefully looked from the dagger to Switzerland. 

He narrowed his eyes at you as he growled, "Seem familiar?"

You hesitated as you followed his gaze to the dagger. A few moments passed before you bent down and plucked the blade out of the Earth. You carefully examined it between your fingers. Although it was slightly worn, there was no mistaking it. This blade was crafted in your own forges. You looked back up at Switzerland with raised eyebrows.

"Every soldier that we took prisoner had weapons just like that," he snarled. "I lost the war solely because of you!"

Thunder clapped above your heads as your expression twisted into a scowl. "Don't blame me for this! If you actually wrote back for once, then _maybe_ I would have known."

Rain began to fall from the sky as Switzerland snapped, "I was too busy!"

"So was I!" you barked above the rapid winds. "I needed to trade with France to survive, but no matter how bad things got, I still sent those letters!" Thunder clapped above your heads as rain soaked through your clothes. "You did _nothing!"_

Switzerland clenched his fists as he glared at you. Without another word, he turned and mounted his horse.

You narrowed your eyes as you cried out, "So, that's it? After everything we've been through together, you're just going to leave?!"

He directed his horse away without even sparing a glance in your direction.

"Fine, go!" you bellowed over the thunder. "I don't need you anyway!"

You turned your back on his retreating form and stalked over to your horse. It broke out into full gallop once you were on its back. The wind stung your face as the rain streaming down your cheeks mixed with tears.

 

The floor creaked as you stepped into your dark house. Your wet clothes tightly clung to your body as droplets of water trickled from them and onto the floor. Several minutes passed as your reddened eyes stared down at your feet before you willed yourself over to the dining room. You traversed the dark room in a daze before lighting a candle that sat near the letters on your table.

Water dripped off your hair and onto your letters as you leaned over the them. Sitting opened beneath you was Switzerland's invitation to meet him. You narrowed your eyes as you grabbed the letter and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it across the room. Thunder sounded above your head, shaking the house as lightning flashed outside the window. You sighed and collapsed into the chair next to you.

You put your head in your hands as another wave of tears threatened to spill down your face. Several minutes passed as you closed your eyes and focused on the sound of the pouring rain. After looking up again, your gaze fell on an unopened letter from earlier that morning. When you picked it up, you noticed the royal seal on it.

After lethargically opening the seal, you scanned through contents of the document: it was your annually updated list of allies and trade partners. When you finished going through the short lists, a bitter frown settled on your face. Switzerland had been removed from both of them. At the bottom of the letter was a note explaining why any changes were made. You sighed and put down the parchment—Switzerland had declared his neutrality and he will no longer work with you or anyone else.

"So much for our promise," you murmured.


	7. Heart to Heart

**[1540]**

You held onto your horse's reins as it pulled your stagecoach full of goods down the dirt path. Up ahead, you could see a group of human men standing there.

One shook his head and commented, "It's a shame that the world has become so pathetic that someone had to force such work onto a girl."

You stopped the horse and glared at the group next to you. "You got a problem with me, pal?"

"Oh, no, dear. Only that a girl like you—one who is at such a ripe age for marriage—is working."

You snorted and raised an eyebrow. "And how old is that?"

"Thirteen, maybe fourteen years old."

You rolled your eyes. "And you're, what? Thirty? Believe me, _boy,_ I've got a good seven-hundred years on you and then some. Not everything is as it seems." You whipped the reins and your horse trotted off as you ignored the man's further comments of disbelief.

A few hours later, you arrived at your destination. You stopped your horse and walked up to the large house before knocking at entrance. A few moments passed and you raised your fist to knock again, but the resident opened the door.

 _"Arcadie,_ it is good to see you again." France smiled brilliantly at you.

You pointed back to your stagecoach, "I've got the chandelier that you commissioned. Do you have your return shipment ready?"

"It is in the back," he smiled. "Of course, you are welcome to stay for the night before heading back out."

You narrowed your eyes at the suggestion. "You're just plotting to join me in bed!"

"Only if you want me to, _ma cherie~!"_ He winked.

You furrowed your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "I should really be going anyway."

"Come now, Arcadia. What harm would it cause if you stayed?" He asked before adding, "At least stay to help me set up the chandelier. I will cook us dinner after that too."

The corners of your lips twisted upward at the thought of a home-cooked meal from France. He may supply you with the raw food to cook, but you were still nowhere near the chef that he was. Your hungry tastebuds were overwhelming your stubbornness.

"Oh, alright."

 

After setting up the chandelier and having dinner under its warm candlelight, France invited you out to the balcony to share a glass of wine as you watched the sun set. You were recounting old war stories to each other when church bells tolled in the distance, silencing you both as you looked to one of the nearby villages.

A sad smile settled on France's lips as he noted, "Someone must be getting married."

He sighed longingly as he gazed out at the twilight. You followed his gaze and remained in a comfortable silence, unsure of how to react to his sudden melancholy.

A few minutes passed before he softly called your name and asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if it was the wine that had made him ask such a thing. After a moment, you began to dig through even your oldest experiences to find an answer to his question. With each century of memories, one face made itself clear in your mind's eye.

"Only once." You sighed and cast your gaze down at your feet. "We had a falling out, though. I haven't spoken to him in decades."

There was a short silence between the two of you before France spoke up again. "I am truly sorry for being the cause."

You looked up to see him looking at his feet in shame. A frown settled on your features and you began to reach your arm out to him. Just before you touched his shoulder, you hesitated and pulled back.

"It's not your fault, Francis." His human name rolled off your tongue for the first time, making the nation direct his gaze back up at you. "We started growing apart right after we gained independence from Holy Rome. Aside from when your war ended, we last spoke in 1499." You sighed before adding, "I could have tried to talk to him after he declared neutrality, but I was too stubborn. He was too."

His expression softened as his eyebrows sunk toward his blue eyes. "Perhaps you were stubborn them, but why not reach out to him now? You acknowledge what went wrong, no?"

You pursed your lips and looked away. "It has been nearly half a century. It would just be too awkward. Besides, sometimes things just have to end." There was another pause in the conversation before you spoke up again. "What about you? Have you ever been in love?"

A sad smile returned to his face as he confessed, "Only one woman ever truly captured my heart, but it just wasn't meant to be."

"Why not?"

"She was human." He sighed. "She died for my freedom long ago." He paused for a moment before softly adding, "If I ever fall so deeply in love again, I will do everything in my power to protect her."

Your features softened. During your first centuries of life, you had quickly learned not to make deep connections with humans because their lives passed by so much faster than your own. You had lost quite a few friends that way, and you couldn't even imagine what it would be like to lose someone you loved to the clutches of death. You put your hand on his shoulder and smiled comfortingly at him.

France smiled softly at your touch before looking up at the stars. "It's getting dark out." He stood and offered to help you up. "You are still welcome to stay the night if you wish."

This time, you smiled. "I'll stay. Thank you for your hospitality."

He returned your smile and beckoned for you to follow him. "I'll show you to your room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ma cherie_ \- My dear (feminine)
> 
> The next few chapters will be a little intense in a way, so the rating will be going up. Be prepared for some psychological issues that may make some readers uncomfortable. There is also some graphic violence coming up in a later chapter.


	8. Hidden Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> France had a bunch of religious civil wars from 1562-1598. One of them eventually culminated in the assassination of King Henry III in 1589. 
> 
> One of the ideas that I always found interesting about Hetalia is what happens to a nation during a civil war. This is what I imagine happens unless a new nation is created from the old one.

**[1568]**

Dreary clouds hung overhead as you passed through the valley. The land itself was devoid of any life other than you and your horse, the remains of old plants had been covered in a fresh dusting of snow. Still, you found yourself wary of what would come. Your hand was still sore from your last encounter with your trade partner, staining the new bandage in blood—though you would take that over what he was going through any day.

The wind whispered an eerie song as it passed by. It felt as though Mother Nature was telling you to give up on your foolishness and turn around. Despite her apparent warning, your only response was to tighten your robes, careful that your religious pendant did not make itself visible.

The trek around the villages added an extra hour or so onto your trip. Normally you would have passed through them for the sake of time, but given what happened last time, you deemed that it would be better to avoid the humans until this unrest blew over. You were pushing it as it was by coming today, but you couldn't find it in your heart to leave him like this.

The sky was even darker when you came across his house. A frown settled on your face as you stopped your horse and wondered if you should have turned back. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before getting down from your seat and walking up the pathway to his house.

You cautiously knocked on the door and called out, "France? Are you in there?"

No response.

You hesitated before repeating, "France?"

All was silent again, minus the wind. You cast your gaze downward and sighed before backing away from the door. Halfway to your stagecoach, you heard screaming from inside the house. Your eyes widened as you whipped around and bolted for the house. You heard glass shattering as you tore the door open.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you frantically looked for the source. This time you could discern the words.

_"Ils ruinent tout!"_

You ran to the kitchen, where the yelling was coming from.

_"Arrêtes! Arrêtes!"_ his voice cracked. _"S'il te plais, arrêtes!"_

You stopped in your tracks when your gaze landed on the older nation. France was clutching the sides of his head and crouching on the ground as he screamed in agony. You hesitated for a moment as you watched him writhe on the ground. War didn't phase you, but this? It may have been a war, but it was a war of the mind—a living torture chamber for the nations who went through it. Not many survived from such horrors, and the disease often spread like the plague to the nearest nations. It was a silent killer, and you could easily be the next target. 

You took a step toward him, your voice quiet and trembling. "France?" 

He stopped and slowly lowered his hands to the ground. The room was silent for a few moments as you gazed at him, trying to think of something—anything—to say. You tensed as he carefully stood up, his hair concealing all but the neutral expression on his lips. He looked to the side and picked up a ceramic plate from the table. His breathing was quiet but his body shook with each breath he took.

You inhaled deeply to calm yourself before addressing him in the language of nations. "France, please-"

He whipped his arm at you, sending the plate flying. Your eyes widened as you raised your arms and ducked to the side. When you looked back at him, you tensed. His eyes showed no expression of understanding—of humanity. His wide eyes bore the expression of a rabid animal as he glared right at your chest.

_"Vous êtes l'une d'entre eux,"_ he hissed as he furrowed his eyebrows.

You looked down, only to find that his eyes were locked onto your pendant. A gasp escaped your lips as you clutched it and looked back up. France was charging at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened as you stepped back and caught his wrists midair. You clenched your teeth as you struggled to keep him at bay. As you looked into his glaring eyes, you could see no ounce of the nation you had gotten to know over the past few decades. You furrowed your eyebrows into a glare of your own as you pushed back. Being the smaller of the two, you were at a great disadvantage. He was slowly overpowering you, forcing you back with each push. Your heart raced as you wondered if this was how the disease would transfer to you.

When you were finally backed into the wall, a cold sweat dripped down your neck and you glanced to the knife. Your arms shook as they struggled against France's wrists. You looked into his wild eyes again as he pushed the knife ever closer. And then, he stopped. You both breathed heavily as you silently stared at each other.

His glare softened before he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He glanced from your face to his wrists. His eyes widened in horror as he dropped the knife to the ground.

_"Mon Dieu,"_ he whispered. _"Q'est-ce que j'ai fait?"_

You held your grip on his wrists as you raised an eyebrow. 

_"Mon Dieu."_ His voice trembled as his eyes began to water. "I'm so sorry, Arcadia."

He took a step back, pulling you away from the wall. You relaxed your body and released your grip only for him to fall, sobbing hysterically as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You nearly collapsed under the sudden weight, just barely managing to stay standing. He apologized over and over again as he gasped for air between sobs.

"France. Francis. Stay with me." You grunted as you strained your muscles. "You're too heavy. I can't... I can't hold you up."

Your knees buckled under the pressure, but this time he held you up, his hysteria having ceased. You tensed at his silence, fearing another outburst. Once you regained your balance, he cupped your cheek and slowly pulled back. His eyes were red as he frowned at you.

He hoarsely whispered your name. "I'm so sorry."

You pursed your lips as you tried to fight off tears. You didn't know what to say to the broken nation before you. Seeing him like this was just... you could hardly bare it.

His expression twisted again for a brief moment and you tensed. His eyes widened as he released you and backed up until he reached the table behind him.

"France-"

"Leave... Please, Arcadia," he begged.

You frowned and hesitated before beginning again. "Let me help you, France."

_"How?"_

"We'll figure something out."

His expression twisted momentarily before he gasped and turned away, clutching the edge of the table.

"Just go," he heaved.

You took a step toward him. "I'm not going to let you go through this alone!"

"Can't you see? You're not safe here!" He backed away and looked back up at you, his voice cracking as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you." France cringed and clutched the sides of his head as he turned away. _"Arrêtes!"_

You froze and hushed your voice. "Francis, please-"

_"Go!"_ he screamed in your native tongue.

You recoiled at his tone, frowning as you watched him. Several moments passed before you slowly backed away, tears threatening to fall. You soon found yourself stepping out of the house and returning to your stagecoach. As you grabbed the reins, you looked back one more time and pursed your lips. You looked down and sighed before setting off for your home, eyes downcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _Ils ruinent tout!_ \- They ruin everything!  
>  _Arrêtes!_ \- Stop! (Familiar form)  
>  _S'il te plais._ \- Please. (Familiar form)  
>  _Vous êtes l'une d'entre eux._ \- You're one of them. (Formal form)  
>  _Mon Dieu._ \- My God.  
>  _Qu'est-ce que je fait?_ \- What have I done?


	9. Monsters Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead! Sorry for taking nearly two years off... I don't have the whole thing done, but I have a few chapters ready and I'll try to update more often. This chapter is a bit depressing since we're in a downward swing of tone for now, but it will pick back up in a few chapters.

The king had sent his servants to fetch you earlier that day, claiming that he had urgent instructions that he wished to convey in person. Despite how your nation-peers viewed you, you were still a woman in the eyes of the humans. You had taken care to wear a formal dress before leaving the house. A few hours later, you found yourself in front of the massive ornate doors that would lead you to the throne room. You pushed them open, revealing the long throne room and your king waiting for you on the other end. After a short gulp, you carefully made your way to the other end, stopping before him to curtsy.

You closed your eyes and dipped your head low as you greeted him. “Your Highness.”

“Stand, Arcadia,” he commanded.

You nervously followed the king’s orders and looked up at him. He was a very large man of his early thirties. His graying hair peaked out from underneath his crown. As the royal family frequently shared your own hair color, you had to keep yourself from cringing at how terribly the colors clashed. As that thought passed through your mind for the first time, you realized how much France had influenced you over the past few decades.

The king rose from his throne, drawing you out of your thoughts as you involuntarily took a step back. You mentally cursed at yourself for your foolish reaction. _He’s just a human!_

The king cleared his throat as he stared down at you. “We are breaking trade with France.”

Your eyes widened as your eyebrows pinched together, your mouth twisting agape. The king gazed down on your pained expression with apathy.

You swallowed your fear as you clenched your fists together and cried out, “Why?”

The king put his hands behind his back as he explained, “It’s too dangerous with that civil war going on. French traders are losing their goods, and all our traders who were foolish enough to go there have been attacked. There is no gain to continuing our partnership with the French.”

“He kept my—our—economy above water when I collapsed!” you argued. “How-”

“Our economy collapsed only because you were foolish enough to try to hold his up!” the king reminded you. “You are forbidden from seeing him.”

You shook your head as you mumbled, “This isn’t right.”

He frowned. “What was that?”

“This... this isn’t right!” Your voice shook. “France needs our help!”

“It’s an internal issue and therefore none of our concern.”

“I won’t let my friend deal with this by himself!”

“Enough!” the king roared. “Your _friend_ is a nation, and _you_ are a nation. Your duty is to your people and no one else. My forefathers have told you this time and time again, but you clearly don’t understand this simple concept.” His tone became harsh. “From now on your curfew is at sundown.”

Your heart raced as you remained where you stood, shaking in silence. A few moments passed as the king glared down at you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth and curtseyed.

“Yes, your Highness.”


	10. The Lament of a Nation

**[1591]**

Fires blazed all around you, bathing the night sky red. Nothing but the sounds of gunshots and the screams of dying soldiers could be heard. This once peaceful valley had been transformed into Hell. From all your years of waging wars, you knew that the outcome here would determine the victor.

This was one of countless wars that you had fought, yet this one was different from all the rest. You did not take any pleasure in striking down your opponents. There was no joy in firing your rifle or swinging your sword. You only did what was necessary with a familiar numbness that had overcome you the past few decades.

A spray of blood dotted your face red as a nearby man was shot. You knew not whether it belonged to an ally or enemy, but you found yourself unconcerned by it. You only wiped the liquid from your eye before raising your rifle and shooting down the enemy soldier who happened to be in your line of sight. The man collapsed before you, so you reloaded your weapon and continued your forward rush, your eyes glazed in an inhumane apathy.

 

_Beautiful flowers swayed in the springtime breeze as you admired the scenery from a bench behind France’s house. As you took another sip from your wine glass your companion rose from his seat and offered you a hand._

_“Dance with me, Arcadie,” his melodic voice called out._

_A fierce blush rose to your cheeks as you stammered, “What?! I don’t- Th-there isn’t even any music playing!” Surely your warm cheeks were only a result of the wine you were drinking._

_“That does not matter, ma cherie,” he assured you. “We will follow the music of our hearts and souls.”_

_You rolled your eyes and folded your arms. “You’re nothing but a corny fool.” As you looked away you muttered, “Besides, I don’t dance.”_

_“Ah, but that is a greater reason for you to try now. Surely a woman as graceful as you in battle can learn to dance with ease.”_

_“F-fine,” you huffed._

_You roughly grabbed France’s waiting hand and he gently pulled you up. He took your free hand and guided it to his shoulder before carefully placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt your heart flutter in its cage as he swept you off your feet and into the motions of the dance._

 

Your bullet struck down yet another enemy soldier. As you reached to your belt to reload your rifle, your fingers clasped around nothing but air. The corners of your lips dipped down slightly at the lack of sensation. You returned your hand to your rifle and continued to push forward into enemy territory, a fire burning inside you as you looked back up at the flag of the Holy Roman Empire.

 

_The fat king stood in front of you, an apathetic look on his face as he explained, “We are shortening your rations again, but I’m sure that you’ll be fine. You’ve survived this long, and the people you serve are more important anyway. You’re just a nation.”_

 

You winced as a bullet grazed your shoulder. As you turned, you found a small group of soldiers blocking your path with their rifles raised. Down the battlefield behind the men, you could see your target. Your eyes widened as you furrowed your eyebrows, resembling that of a crazed beast as you hoisted your rifle over your head and mercilessly swung it down.

 

_You smiled down at Switzerland from your horse. "Don't worry, Switzy, I'll make sure to write. Maybe I'll come visit when I'm bored too. Remember our promise?"_

_Something lit up in his eyes as his frown became a subtle smile._

_He blushed and looked away as he grumbled, "Of course I do."_

_You let out a hearty laugh at his reaction, ignoring your own warm cheeks. "I'll always be your friend, Vash!”_

 

You tossed your blood-soaked rifle to the ground and unsheathed your sword before marching down the battlefield. With your trusted blade in hand, you swiftly cut down anyone who dared to block your path. When you reached a small clearing in the bloodshed, time seemed to slow to a halt. Finally, after all these years you had come face to face with the nation who had invaded your land. 

 

_“You’re too reckless,” Switzerland warned as he bandaged your arm. “If you keep this up you’ll die one day!”_

 

His black uniform swayed in the winds as you locked eyes. Despite the opportunity, no human on either side dared to interfere. This was between you and Holy Rome – the two oldest on the battlefield, yet those who appeared the youngest.

You furrowed your brows, your tone dangerously low as you commanded, "Surrender now and leave."

"I can't do that," he told you in a matching tone.

"And why not?" you asked monotonously.

There was a pause before Holy Rome asked, "Have you ever been in love, Arcadia?"

Your frown deepened as you snapped, "Of course I have."

"Then you'll understand why I'm doing this. You are a threat to her and you have the resources I need to keep her safe," he explained. "You have nowhere to go and no allies to help you. Give up."

You narrowed your eyes at the nation who had caused all your woes. "A nation's first duty is to her people. I will never surrender."

"Then you leave me no choice."

The Holy Roman Empire handed his rifle to his nearest soldier before drawing his sword and holding it at the ready. You followed in suit, raising your bloodied blade at the nation before you. The sounds and sights of the soldiers around you were wiped from your mind leaving only you and your opponent.

You bellowed a vicious war cry as you charged at the nation before you and swung your sword down at him. The clang of metal on metal rang out as he stopped your attack and pushed your blade back. You snarled and swung down at his hip, but met his sword again. He struggled against the force of your blade as he tried to keep it from reaching his body. As you put more strength into your motion, he roared and kicked you in the gut, knocking you back as he escaped your steel. You landed on your back with a thud before rolling back and springing up.

His glare was unforgiving as he charged at you and jabbed his sword at your stomach. Your eyes widened as you swung your sword up and jumped to the side. The tip of his blade tore through your tunic and drew blood before you were fully out of range. You had no time to decipher how deep the blade had gone by the time he came at you again. 

You parried his blade again and again, grunting with each strike in your deadly dance across the small opening. When your swords met for a moment too long, you struck a strong kick to his ribs, pushing him away. He cried out and clutched his side momentarily as you advanced and sliced at his leg. Your opponent was quick to deflect your attack and step back.

A dark smirk formed on your lips as you spotted an opening right at his heart. You lunged at him and jabbed your blade toward the opening. The corners of his lips curled upward as he clashed his sword with yours and flicked his wrist, knocking your weapon from your grasp. You cringed as your hand cracked under the force before reaching for the dagger on your belt with your other hand.

Time seemed to slow as you raised your dagger to stab into his chest. He drew his sword back for a moment as he reached his hand up toward yours. Your blade grazed his palm as his fingers wrapped around your wrist. He twisted your wrist, pulling you to him as he lunged forward and jabbed at your inner thigh.

Your eyes widened as you felt the tip of his blade tear through your pants and plunge into your flesh. A screech ripped through your lungs as the metal brushed past the bone and broke the skin on the other side. You released your grip on the dagger as your body began to shake uncontrollably. Bile rose up from your stomach and soiled the ground between you and the Holy Roman Empire.

He yanked the blade from your leg, causing you to cry out as you fell into him. The nation released your wrist and tightly grabbed onto the back of your tunic, holding you up against him as your breaths became more ragged.

His voice was low as he murmured, “It’s over.”

* * *

The sun peeked above the Alps, rising Switzerland from his slumber. The reclusive nation stretched before combing his hair and walking to the window. He longingly gazed out at the dark landscape before clenching his fists and turning away in a huff. Switzerland returned to the other side of the room and dressed himself before finding himself drawn to the window again.

He sighed and allowed himself to watch as the sun reached the lands below. The last few years he was greeted each morning with the constant view of fighting armies, but he was cursed to do nothing to intervene. Today, he was greeted with quite a different view. His eyes widened and his grip on the windowsill tightened.

Miles away from the base of the mountain, he could see the flag of the Holy Roman Empire raised high above your capital. 

His breath was a mere whisper as your name escaped his lips. “Why did it have to be her?”


	11. Correspondence

**[1628]**

The morning sun woke you from your slumber as it prodded at your eyes to open. You groaned as you grudgingly rose from your bed and dressed yourself in what you dubbed the dumbest dress you have ever had to wear. It was a tacky maid’s dress in a hideous color that flattered no one. You huffed as you tied the apron behind your back and peered into the mirror to fix your hair to be at least semi-presentable. Eyes lined with dark circles stared back at you as you brushed away your bedhead.

After finishing your task, you made your way to the dining table on the other side of the mansion. It had been nearly three decades since Holy Rome defeated you and brought you back to his home as his servant. Three decades of servitude had stunted your already-sluggish growth, leaving you appearing no older than fourteen – much to your chagrin.

Upon arriving at this house so long ago, you learned that your captor had three other nations under his power. You had quickly learned that Hungary was the responsible one who wasn’t afraid to put you in your place when you were being noncompliant. She appeared a year or two older than you and had a soft spot for the youngest nation of the group. Italy was a dunce whose clumsiness constantly got on your nerves – it probably didn’t help that she was the reason Holy Rome invaded you in the first place. Finally, there was your former friend and traitor, Austria. Even he appeared to be slightly older than you, though he seemed the most willing of the trio to work under Holy Rome’s reign – well, on the rare occasions that he bothered to work.

You stopped at the table and took your seat across from your old friend as you waited for the girls to finish cooking. Ignoring the nation, you placed your head in your hand as your thoughts began to drift.

As you closed your eyes, you began to picture him. His blond hair swayed in the wind as he took your hand and led you away, the sands of time distorting his laugh into a melodic ring. A soft smile graced your lips as you lost yourself in the memory.

“You must miss him.”

Your eyebrow twitched as you returned to the reality before you only to see Austria giving you a knowing smile. How dare he interrupt your daydreams?!

You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I heard you talking in your sleep again,” the brunet admitted. “You carry much guilt over what happened.”

Your cheeks burned a bright pink as you snapped, “I only talk in my sleep because you kept me up half the night playing your damn music!”

Austria couldn’t help but laugh at your defensive reaction while you glared daggers at your former friend. Before you could will yourself to get up and kick his butt, Hungary and Italy came out to serve breakfast. The four of you sat around the table as you began to eat. After taking a bite of your meal, you reached for your tea.

You took a sip and nearly choked. “This tastes like garbage! What the Hell did you do to it?!”

“We ran out of our usual leaves since that trade route was cut off,” Hungary explained. “You’ll have to deal with it.”

A few moments passed as you stared at her before deciding that you didn’t feel like facing her wrath again at the moment.

“Fine. Whatever,” you grumbled before picking at your breakfast.

“You’ve changed a lot,” Austria mused.

You rolled your eyes. “As I have said countless times these past few decades, two centuries are more than enough time for a nation to grow.”

“I’m not talking about your height this time,” he explained. “I have never known you to be a picky eater, Arcadia.”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before deciding to keep your further comments to yourself and focus on eating. As you filled your stomach, your thoughts strayed to your old living situation under your king. If nothing else, at least Holy Rome feeds you well – not as well as France, but it was significantly better than what little you had in your years of solitude.

You withheld a sigh as you thought again to your former trade partner. It had been over half a century since you last saw him so broken. His civil wars waged periodically until the day you were defeated by Holy Rome, and you wondered if he was ever able to break free of his tortured mind. A pit grew in your stomach as you regretted not going to help him in his time of need.

Once everyone was done with their meals, Hungary had the three of you line up for this season’s chore list. It took all your will to withhold several groans, sighs, and rolled eyes throughout this hour-long process. The chore divisions never took this long when Holy Rome was actually home. Still, this was the only moment when you wished for this blasted war to be over and free you from Hungary’s dull lectures.

Oh, she was done speaking now?

You pursed your lips before deciding to go off and get started on your daily routine. After grabbing the broom, you swept the upper floors of the grand palace, stopping occasionally to rest your still-healing leg. The wound had left you incapable of walking for so long, even after you finally woke from your coma. Slowly, but surely you were regaining your strength. If you wanted to escape from this empire, you would need to stay patient this time and play the waiting game. Of course, a few snarky comments here and there wouldn’t hurt.

Hour passed before you grabbed your tools and moved outside to work on the garden as assigned. After watering the flowers that were currently blooming, you took a moment to rest on the bench and admire the scenery of your hard work. Birds were flying in and out of your field of vision, dancing across the sky and inspecting the plants below. You felt a sharp jab at your hand before crying out and roughly pulling away. As you turned to glare at whatever poor soul did that, your eyes landed on a small yellow bird. It was looking back up at you with a tilted head, prompting you to furrow your brows. Only then did you notice what appeared to be a piece of paper attached to its leg.

You hesitantly reached out and removed the string that held it there before unrolling the paper. As it turned out, this was a tiny letter addressed to you.

> _“Wait before you make a move. I’m sure you’ll find out soon if you don’t already know, but we have the place surrounded. We have a plan to get you out of there by the end of the summer, so play it smart for once and don’t fight back. We’ll come to you.”_

Without a signature, the mysterious note ended. Before you could take the time to further contemplate who had sent it, you heard a shrill screech from off in the distance. You jolted up and carefully shoved the letter somewhere on your person as you braced yourself. Italy came flying by as she frantically waved a white flag, ultimately trampling your flowers.

A white hot rage ignited within you as you roared out the buffoon’s name and raced after her. Even without the stumbles caused by your injury, you had no hope of catching up with the girl when she was in her full retreat mode. A nearby closet door slammed shut and clicked as she locked herself in. If only the force of your glare could burn a hole through the barrier! Instead you repeatedly pounded on the door.

Soon you felt a pair of arms hold you back as Hungary asked, “What on Earth is going on?”

“That bastard just destroyed all my hard work!”

Italy whimpered from inside the closet, “I was only running from the soldiers!”

Your rage immediately receded as your eyes went wide. Was this what the letter meant?

“Soldiers?!” the brunette repeated as she released you. “Where did you see them?”

“Off in the distance at the borders.”

This had to be what the letter was talking about: the house was surrounded at the borders. Holy Rome was losing the war. You tried your best to keep your expression neutral as Hungary discussed the details with Italy, but you couldn’t help the gleam in your eye as you looked off in the distance.

Later that night Hungary held an emergency meeting with the three of you, and she was dressed in her full military uniform.

“I’m leaving tonight,” she explained. “Austria, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Make sure everyone does their… chores.” She paused for a beat before turning to you. “Actually… Arcadia, I want you to make sure the chores get done.” She then turned back to your former friend. “Austria, make sure she doesn’t burn the house down.”

“What?!” you whined.

She ignored you as she went on to bid her farewells. Soon she was on her horse and racing off into the darkness. Italy cried as the older nation left while Austria apparently found it difficult to look up. You stood there with arms folded as you watched her go. Your former friend was the first to move from his spot a few minutes after Hungary had disappeared over the horizon, opting to lead Italy to bed after that long day. Several long moments passed when you were finally on your own, eyes locked on the clear path off the property and into the woods. You moved to take a step forward, but hesitated as the letter from earlier resurfaced in your mind.

> _“Wait before you make a move… We’ll come to you.”_

You pursed your lips and clenched your fists as you deliberated over which course of action to take. The road was wide open and the opportunity was there. Nothing was stopping you from leaving in this moment.

Still, your shoulders drooped and you took a step back. If you dove into the unknown so recklessly again, you couldn’t be sure that you would actually make it out alive. You still weren’t sure how you survived Holy Rome’s attack on that fateful battlefield.

The sender of this letter said they would come for you, and you had to trust that. With a sigh, you turned and made your way back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story, feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> Who do you think sent the letter?


	12. The Great Escape

Several months had passed since Hungary left, and the warring armies have been getting closer and closer with each passing day. Taking heed of your mysterious letter’s advice, you waited and waited, but a few months were nothing for an eight-hundred year old nation. Still, that was more than enough time to bring change to your current residence. Along with the ever-rising tension in the house of Holy Rome had come several unexpected surprises—namely, the discovery that Italy was actually a boy. You had been passing in the hallway to clean the pantry when you heard her—rather, him—singing, and his voice cracked.

Normally you wouldn’t care, because he was a pain in your ass regardless of sex, but the discovery gave you just the distraction you needed. While Austria was fussing over getting clothes that fit Italy’s gender, you managed to sneak into the guard’s quarters and steal a pistol. It wasn’t exactly your preferred weapon—your sword hanging high above as a trophy of your defeat—but it was better than nothing.

One late summer’s eve, you were awoken from your slumber by a breeze from the opened window. You narrowed your eyes as they rapidly adjusted to the dark. Silently slipping a hand under the pillow, you clasped your fingers around the cool metal of your gun. The floorboards creaked and you whipped around and pulled the trigger, just missing your target’s head as the blast resonated through the room.

The platinum-blond laughed in a hushed tone. “You’ve had centuries to practice and your aim is still shit. You’ve gotten complacent, brat.”

Recognizing your old rival, you jumped to your feet and aimed. “I won’t miss this time, Prussia.”

“Like a bullet can stop the awesome me.” He put his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m not here to take your lame territory. Let’s go before someone comes to find out what the Hell just happened.”

You hesitated as you lowered your weapon slightly. “What?”

Waving a hand dismissively, he explained, “I owe France, so I’m getting you out of here. Otherwise I’d be out there kicking Hungary’s ass right now.”

Your eyes widened as your body relaxed. He was still alive? It was only then when your eyes flickered to the yellow bird perched on the nation’s shoulder—the same one that had delivered the message several months earlier.

Shouts echoed from down the hallway as Prussia backed to the window. “You coming or not?”

With a curt nod, you followed the older nation out the window and climbed to the ground below. You winced as you landed, hand flying to the old injury on your leg before you straightened your posture.

As Prussia started moving toward the wall, you called in a hushed whisper, “Wait! We need to get something from the shed first.”

Sneaking across the shadows of the yard—away from the view of the guards searching for you—the two of you made your way to the shed. Stepping inside, you directed the tall nation’s gaze to the sword hanging in the rafters, just out of reach.

Raising an eyebrow, he snickered. _“That’s_ what we came for?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Just get the damn sword. I’m too short.”

Prussia retrieved your trusted blade, but didn’t hold his teasing. “Ancient weapons are no match for a good pistol at your side, kid.”

You took your sword as you retorted, “Guns are ineffective when they run out of bullets, but a sword is limited only by its quality.” As you attached it to your belt, you added, “Besides, it’s not as clumsy or random as a pistol. The blade is an elegant weapon from a more… _civilized_ age.”

He laughed. “Since when did you ever care about _that?”_

You snorted in response and set out. Prussia was quick to race in front of you, guiding you to the hole in the wall and his waiting horse on the other side.

 

Your former rival brought you past enemy lines and over your border with France. As you neared the main camp in the distance, Prussia slowed his horse. You felt a tightness in your chest as you looked up at the stars. It had been over half a century since you last saw France—even longer since you last saw him _normal._ Prussia said that he was still alive—that he survived his civil war—but to what cost? How much had the conflict changed him?

Even if he had managed to return to his prior self, what would you say? You turned your back on him when he needed you most, yet he sent someone to free you from Holy Rome. Withholding a sigh, you turned your gaze forward. You didn’t deserve his kindness—not after abandoning him like that.

Prussia’s horse trotted through the camp, passing the sleeping soldiers until he stopped at a large tent on the edge of the camp, nearest the river.

He glanced back at you. “France will want to see you.”

Pursing your lips you dismounted, your balance wavering as you landed on your bad leg. The older nation didn’t so much as spare a glance before moving away, leaving you alone in front of the tent. You stared at the flaps, illuminated by the full moon, but not by a lantern within. Several moments passed as you held your hand to your chest, hesitating before reaching out and pushing through the entrance.

There was a map of the continent on the ground with pieces signifying troops scattered across it. Despite these war times, the tent was still adorned with small decorations, the fleur-de-lis hanging from one wall. Perhaps he truly had returned to his normal self. In the far corner was an empty cot, next to the other entrance. With a soft frown, you traversed the tent and peered through the exit.

A lone man was standing on the edge of the river, looking up at the stars above. His golden hair swayed lightly in the summer breeze. While he had grown slightly in your time apart, France looked just as he did in your memories.

“It is beautiful. Is it not, _Arcadie?”_

Your eyes widened—you hadn’t realized that he noticed your presence. Words frozen in your throat, hands growing clammy, you stood still with your mouth slightly ajar. He turned around, blue eyes gazing into yours as he smiled softly. Your heart constricted in your chest as all your bottled emotions threatened to burst past their long-maintained gates.

“France, I—” Your voice cracked as you looked away. “I’m so sorry.”

He gently called out your human name as he stepped closer. “Do not apologize. Neither you nor I were in the position to help one another—not until now.”

You clenched your fists slightly as your cheeks grew wet. “How long—”

“It does not matter, _ma cherie.”_ He wrapped his arms around you. “I am better now, and so happy to see you again.”

You tightly returned his embrace as your emotions flooded through, your overwhelming guilt and relief forcing them out. France held you close, hands stroking your hair, and you swore that you felt droplets on your forehead.


	13. Reconnect

**[1635]**

Your hand glided over the smooth material of your new uniform as you smiled and leaned back in your seat, the tent’s walls finally giving you privacy. To your side, France poured a second glass of wine before passing it to you. Gently clinking your glasses together in an unspoken toast, you took a sip.

With a sigh, you admitted, “I constantly wondered how my injuries affected my people... I suppose it makes sense that the royal family would be killed from them.”

Golden brows furrowed, he asked, “What will you do when your full freedom is restored?”

You pursed your lips. “I’ll have to think about it, but I want to stray away from a monarchy this time. I was given a chance to be reborn, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did in my youth.”

The larger nation put a hand on yours with an assuring smile. “I will help you rebuild, no matter your choices.”

Staring into his eyes, your shoulders relaxed as your lips curved into a gentle smile. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

France winked. “You were yourself, _ma cherie.”_

You chuckled as you looked away and shook your head. “And you’re still as corny as ever…” Sighing, your gaze fell to the map on the floor. “At any rate, if I can’t fight, I need to contribute another way.”

France looked down for a few moments before jumping to his feet and offering a hand. “Ah, and what better way to prepare as our chief strategist than to know our allies? You still have yet to meet them.”

Returning your glass to the table, you took his hand and followed him out. The sun was low on that cool Spring evening as he guided you through the camp. Your soldiers mostly kept to themselves, though a few awestricken fellows watched on in a thoughtful silence before whispering the rumors of your strange immortality to their brethren.

“You already know about Prussia,” France began before introducing you to a few smaller states in passing.

He gestured to a tall man with messy blond hair. “Netherlands has been helping the cause for a while.”

In the distance, said nation acknowledged you with a simple nod, which you returned before moving on. Another hulking blond with glasses was walking by when he paused to stare at you intensely. You gave him a short nod, prompting him to return one before taking a breath and continuing on his way.

“Sweden has been our strongest contributor,” France explained. “He has become one of Europe’s great Superpowers while you were gone.”

Before you could react, a confident voice called from behind, _“Well,_ if it isn’t little Archie?”

Your eyebrows twitched as you snorted and put your hands on your hips.

France laughed. “Ah, and of course, there’s—”

You turned to the newcomer with a slight frown. _“Scotland.”_ The redhead smirked as you added, “Wasn’t expecting to see you on the mainland.”

Chortling, he commented, _“Relax,_ Archie. We’re _friends_ this time.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a short laugh, and France chimed in. “England was also on our side until a few years ago.”

“Aye,” Scotland agreed. “Little wuss chickened out about five years ago. Anywho, I’ve gotta scram. Got a meeting to attend.” He reached down and ruffled your hair. “See ya ‘round camp, Archie.”

You scowled as you fixed your hair before following beside France again.

“On other fronts, we are receiving support from the Ottoman Empire and Russia.”

“So, Holy Rome is well and truly surrounded this time,” you deduced.

_“Oui.”_ Drawing further to the edge of the camp, he nonchalantly added, “We also have strong mercenaries on our side.” He pointed to a man in the distance who had his back turned as he adjusted his boot laces. “Ah, there’s one. Why don’t you say hello, _Arcadie?_ I have a meeting with my generals, so we must part ways for now.”

Nodding, you watched him walk off for a moment before approaching the mercenary. As you neared him, you noted that the young blond appeared to be one of the youngest soldiers, perhaps around sixteen years old. You wondered if he would see you as another young teen, or if he was one of the few who knew the truth about nations.

The man stood to his full height—not much taller than you—and scratched his head under his mop of blond hair. He turned to the side, giving you a glimpse of his face, and the world seemed to come to a halt.

Your eyes went wide as his name came out in a breath. “Switzerland?”

He froze before whipping his head to face you, his jaw dropping as he stared. “A-Arcadia?”

A long silence fell between you as your mind raced. Glancing down for a moment, you nervously smiled back up.

“So… how have you been?”  
 

Your trade partner smiled softly as he watched the encounter in the distance. Beside him, Prussia folded his arms, brows furrowed as he frowned.

The platinum blond scoffed. “You’re crazy for giving her up.”

France’s gaze remained on you as you awkwardly conversed with your old friend.

After a moment, he let out an airy sigh and confessed, “I just want her to be happy.”


	14. Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a story just comes to its natural conclusion before you planned. I hope you enjoyed the story. I’ll be publishing a one-shot collection of scenes I had planned for the remainder (I'll add a link in the footnotes if I do), but I’ll be ending the story here. It just seemed like the right emotional conclusion, and for the character growth.
> 
> By the way, if you haven’t guessed by now, the war that’s been going on for the past few chapters is the Thirty Years War.

**[1648]**

You were standing atop a hill with your fellow nations, leaving the humans to themselves as you overlooked the last battlefield. The field was stained by the blood of the fallen, and littered with weapons of war from the past thirty years, but that was all done with now. This war had been the deadliest in Europe’s history, and it left you both tired and hoping never to see this madness again.

Body relaxing, you let out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”

Beside you, Switzerland folded his arms and commented, “You’ve grown up.”

You let out a chuckle. “Almost dying will do that to a nation.”

Your childhood friend tensed and looked away, but you couldn’t help your slight smile as you watched.

Hair swaying in the wind, you began, “Thank you for helping us.”

His cheeks grew red as he stammered, “I-It’s not like I did it just for your sakes! France offered a good deal of money, and I was sick of these people messing up my Alps.”

You let out an amused snort. “You know, for all your years alone, you haven’t changed much.”

The blond pursed his lips, his gaze falling to his feet for a moment. This time, you looked away as silence overcame you.

Prussia stepped out from behind and announced, “The awesome Prussian Army is moving out. See you chumps around!”

Your eyes followed as the older nation made his way into the abandoned battlefield. While the old you would have loved to tease him about quitting so soon, you could only muster a frown as a pit formed in your stomach.

When he was out of earshot, you asked, “Do you think he’ll find his brother?”

“Yeah.” Turning to you, Switzerland added, “He survived turning into Holy Rome centuries ago. I’m sure Prussia will find him somewhere, whether the empire is really done for or not.”

With one last gaze at the retreating nation, you slowly nodded and asked, “Are you going to stay and let your comrades rest for the night?”

He shook his head. “We’re mercenaries, not soldiers. They’ll go on their own time, but I’m done here. I’m going home.”

After he took a few steps, you called out, “Hey, Vash?”

He stopped, hesitating before craning his neck to look at you.

With a light smile, you gave your parting words. “Take care of yourself.”

He glanced away and nodded before returning a quiet, “You too.”

As you watched him disappear in the distance along with the setting sun, you felt your body relax. A calm flooded your senses, and you smiled softly. You remained where you stood for a while. The moon and stars were shining above the last bit of daylight when you felt an arm drape over your shoulders.

France pinched his eyebrows together as he whispered your name. “...Are you alright?”

You were silent for a moment as the breeze gently brushed through your hair. “For the first time in over a century… I feel at peace.” Looking up, you gazed into his eyes. “Thank you.”

He smiled tenderly as he shifted his hand to your waist.


End file.
